


Not Imitation

by helens78



Category: Iron Man (Movies)
Genre: Angry Sex, Character of Color, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-31
Updated: 2008-08-31
Packaged: 2017-10-05 07:47:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/39379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helens78/pseuds/helens78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim doesn't want to be Tony, he wants Tony to be Tony. But somebody's got to be Iron Man in the meantime.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Imitation

**Author's Note:**

> **A note about story content:** This story contains a character who is still somewhere between denial, bargaining, anger and acceptance when it comes to his alcohol addiction.

Jim's sweating when he gets home. He's lightheaded, but he doesn't know if that's because he's high on the adrenaline or because this fucking armor of Tony's wasn't made for him and is uncomfortably tight in the chest. It's hard to take a full breath in it. One of these days he's going to need to talk to Tony about armor customizations, but in six months he hasn't found the balls to do it. At first he thought he could diet his way to the right shape, but no; the armor wasn't made for him, and it never lets him forget that.

Jarvis helps him out of it, and Jim takes a deep breath. At least the undersuit fits him; why Tony had Richards made him one in the first place, Jim doesn't know (or rather, why he'd have Richards make Jim the undersuit but never get around to making him armor of his own, Jim doesn't know), but at least once he's out of the armor, he can breathe again.

When he walks out from the garage section of the workshop into the R&amp;D zone, he gets a split-second warning--a flash of movement coming from his right side--and then Tony's shoving him up against the wall, pinning him there. Under optimal circumstances, it'd be a pretty even fight, but usually circumstances aren't optimal for Tony, and today they're not so great for Jim, either.

He tries to push Tony back, but he's still wiped out from the damn flight across the country, and for once Tony doesn't smell like alcohol. Jim looks at him, startled. Tony's glaring at him, and his eyes aren't bloodshot or clouded. He's actually wearing clean pajama pants, not boxers, not running around naked.

How long has it been since Jim left this last time? Ten hours? Twelve? It's not enough for Tony to be sober, but it's enough for him to have cleaned himself up.

"You took the armor," Tony says. His breath doesn't smell like alcohol, and for some reason that just pisses Jim off.

"You're goddamned right I took the armor," he snaps back. "You think I was going to let you go out like you were?"

"I was fine."

"Bullshit."

"I'm _fine_. You don't just walk out of here pretending to be me."

Jim shoves Tony back. Tony doesn't stumble. "I wasn't pretending to be anything. You don't fucking get it, do you? You're not the armor. The armor's not _you_. I've _been_ Iron Man for the past six months, and you want to know something? Nobody knows the difference."

"Fuck you--"

"Like you could fuck _anybody_ right now," Jim spits, and he knows it's a low blow as soon as he says it. He winces, but it's too late to take it back. Part of him doesn't want to.

Tony shoves him into the wall again, and this time Jim goes with it. He grabs at Tony's waist and pulls him in, and he can feel Tony's dick pressed up against his thigh--the undersuit's made of a fabric that transmits sensation almost better than being naked would, and Tony's thin pajama pants aren't hiding a thing, either.

"You want to be me, don't you? You always did."

"Asshole, _no_, I want _you_ to fuckin' be you--"

"C'mere. C'mon." Tony pulls Jim away from the wall just enough to get his hand behind Jim's neck. The undersuit's got a seam, not a zipper--Jim hopes Richards has a patent on this stuff, because there's no bulk like velcro and no teeth like a zipper, it just parts under Tony's hand and keeps parting, baring Jim's shoulders, then his back, then his ass. Tony doesn't waste time, and unlike all the times Jim's thought he couldn't find his _own_ ass with both hands and a flashlight, he's just using one hand, he's moving by feel, and he's got it just right, two fingers pressed against Jim's hole and working their way in. Jim hisses--tight, he's too fucking tight for this--but Tony just keeps going, angry and relentless, until his fingers are in as deep as they're going to get.

"Turn around," Tony whispers.

"_Hell_, no--you want to bareback? Are you crazy?"

Tony pulls back, then, glaring, and grabs the front of Jim's undersuit. There's just enough loose material he can get a grip on it, and he drags--_drags_, what the hell--Jim over to the desk with the 3-D vector design projector. He shoves Jim down on it and digs around in a drawer. He comes away with a condom, which makes Jim close his eyes--he remembers _putting_ those damn condoms there, back when they were both working on upgrades to the armor until all hours of the night and Tony was only drinking himself halfway to oblivion.

Tony doesn't bother with lube, which makes Jim wonder if this is going to happen at all. It's been a long time since Tony could get it up enough to--

"_Unhh._"

"Yeah, what was that about me fucking anybody right now? Huh?"

Jim shoves back and braces himself when Tony pushes in a little deeper. It shouldn't be this good, not when he's pissed off and tired and Tony's so furious he might as well be spitting nails, but it's been so motherfucking _long_ since he had this, since Tony could _do_ this, and he holds onto the edge of the desk and just lets the rest of the world drop away.

Forget the armor. Forget the drinking. Forget the anger. This is what it used to be like when things were _good_; this is how Tony used to fuck when he got his mind set on an idea but couldn't make the pieces fit. Jim's used to needing to hold on for dear life with Tony, but this is what it was like when they were kids and they had nowhere to go but up.

Tony reaches around; the slick, smooth fabric of the undersuit sliding against Jim's dick is too much sensation to handle. He comes quick and hard and almost painfully, and maybe there's more heat against Tony's palm, but no dampness; these suits are waterproof but breathable, somehow, and they never stain from sweat. Richards _definitely_ needs to patent these things.

But Tony's not done yet, and after a few minutes Jim's wincing. He drops his head onto the desk, grits his teeth; this _isn't_ like when they were kids, because back then it didn't take Tony an hour to get off. This is still here, now, and by the time Tony finally squeezes Jim's hips and groans through his orgasm, Jim's shaking, certain he won't be able to walk on his own for a while. Tony collapses on him, which pretty much seals the deal; Jim's not going anywhere.

"You can't," Tony whispers. "You can't go."

"Not a problem right now."

"No--I mean this." He fingers the undersuit, from Jim's shoulder to his wrist. "I mean you can't keep taking the armor. It's too dangerous."

Jim pushes up and turns his head, looking Tony in the eye as best he can. "You think it's more dangerous if I do it than if you do?"

"I think I care more if you get killed."

"That's for damn sure." Jim closes his eyes again. "Shit, I'm tired. You think Jarvis would get us a blanket if we asked nice?"

"I'll get you a blanket if you ask nice."

"No, you can fucking carry me to a _bed_."

"Okay."

They end up supporting each other, weaving their way up the stairs--and more stairs--and why the hell does this place have so many fucking stairs?--until they get to Tony's bedroom. This is like the old days, too, after a night out drinking and fucking, only there's no laughter as they collapse into bed. Jim peels off the rest of the undersuit and leaves it hanging over the foot of the bed, and he curls up on his side, facing away from Tony.

Tony spoons up behind him, wrapping an arm around his chest. "Hey," he whispers.

"C'mon, man, I'm _tired_\--"

"Me, too. I just wanted..."

Jim looks over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised.

"You did good out there," Tony says, not meeting Jim's eyes. "You always do."

"I was wondering when you were gonna notice that," Jim says softly. He laces his fingers through Tony's; it's not that long before he falls asleep.

_-end-_


End file.
